—I did.
She nodded, then gently closed Billy’s book.
—When I first came to St. Nicholas’s in 1942, I found that window to have a rather mysterious effect on me. There was something about it that captured my attention, but in a manner I couldn’t quite pin down. Some afternoons, when things were quiet, I would sit with a cup of coffee—about where you’re sitting now—and stare at it, simply to take it in. Then one day, I realized what it was that had been affecting me so. It was the difference between the expressions on the faces of the disciples and the faces of the children.
Sister Agnes turned a little in her chair so that she could look up at the window. Almost reluctantly, Emmett followed her gaze.
—If you look at the faces of the disciples, you can tell that they remain quite skeptical about what they have just seen. Surely, they are thinking to themselves, this must be some kind of hoax or vision, for with our own eyes we witnessed His death on the Cross, and with our own hands we carried His body into the tomb. But if you look at the faces of the children, there isn’t a hint of skepticism. They look upon this miracle with awe and wonder, yes, but without disbelief.
Emmett knew that Sister Agnes was well intentioned. And given that she was a woman in her sixties who had devoted her life not only in service to the Church, but in service to orphans, Emmett knew when she began her story that she deserved his full attention. But as she spoke, Emmett couldn’t help noting that the yellow, red, and blue patterns from the very window she was describing had moved from the wall to the surface of the table, marking the progress of the sun and the loss of another hour.
* * *
— . . . Then he went up the hill with Emmett’s book bag and broke the window to the kitchen door!
Like one of the boys in the orphanage, Billy was recounting the morning’s events in a state of excitement as Sally maneuvered Betty through traffic.
—He broke the window?
—Because the door was locked! And then he went into the kitchen and got a fistful of spoons and carried them upstairs to the dormitories.
—What did he want with a fistful of spoons?
—He wanted the spoons because he was bringing them your strawberry preserves!
Sally looked over at Billy with an expression of shock.
—He gave them a jar of my strawberry preserves?
—No, said Billy. He gave them six. Isn’t that what you said, Emmett?
Both Billy and Sally turned to Emmett, who was looking out the passenger-side window.
—That sounds about right, he replied without looking back.
—I don’t understand, said Sally, almost to herself.
Leaning forward over the steering wheel, she accelerated in order to pull around a sedan.
—I only gave him six jars. They might have lasted him from now until Christmas. Why on earth would he hand over the whole batch to a bunch of strangers?
—Because they are orphans, explained Billy.
Sally considered this.
—Yes, of course, Billy. You’re absolutely right. Because they are orphans.
As Sally nodded her head in acknowledgment of Billy’s reasoning and Duchess’s charity, Emmett couldn’t help but note that she’d been plenty more indignant about the fate of her jam than she had been about the fate of his car.
—There, said Emmett pointing to the station.
In order to make the turn, Sally cut in front of a Chevy. When she skidded to a stop, the three of them climbed from the cab. But as Emmett was glancing at the entrance of the station, Billy went to the bed of the truck, grabbed his backpack, and began swinging it onto his back.
Seeing this, Sally exhibited a moment of surprise, then she looked toward Emmett with the narrowed eyes of castigation.
—You haven’t told him? she asked under her breath. Well, don’t expect me to!
Emmett took his brother aside.
—Billy, he began, you don’t need to put your backpack on right now.
—It’s okay, Billy said, while tightening the shoulder straps. I can take it off when we get on the train.
Emmett got down on his haunches.
—You’re not coming on the train, Billy.
—What do you mean, Emmett? Why aren’t I coming on the train?
—It makes more sense for you to go with Sally while I get the car. But as soon as I’ve got it, I’m coming right back to Morgen to pick you up. It shouldn’t take me more than a few days.
But even as Emmett was explaining this, Billy was shaking his head.
—No, he said. No. I can’t go back with Sally, Emmett. We have already left Morgen and we are on our way to San Francisco.